


choke (on the memories)

by blurryfaced



Series: nameless, faceless [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, M/M, Strong Language, Violence, a verbal fight between these two goofballs i guess, hinted unrequeted feelings???, i don't know what to tag this as really, i say graphic depictions of violence i mean like two punches, if you can call it hinted, lapslock, other than another part of this au that still isn't concrete on wtf it wants to be lmao, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: “I want you out!” jaebum yells, and his words bounce again, but this time they shatter against the window. the fragments lay on the floor, ready to be stepped on. “I can’t look at your fucking face right now—”“since you smashed it?” he interrupts softly.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowedMelody (ShadowedMaiden)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedMaiden/gifts).



> i'm not entirely sure if i'm very happy with how this turned out?? i've edited it a few times but with what i've got i can't seem to make it go any other direction that the one it's taken... so let me know what you think!! i'm sorry (but also not) at how long you had to wait for this. this is my way of letting out angsty feelings, a sort of vent, if you will, so if i don't feel upset i don't want to write it as i'm in a good mood, lmao. but i was angry a few weeks back that started this?? and i decided to finish it and post it because why not.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> —mack

“it isn’t fair, ars!” jaebum shouts, and it bounces around his living room; off the coffee table into the tv, curving off the sofa and splattering against the window. it dribbles, sticky and poignant. “it really isn’t fucking fair!”

ars stands just behind the sofa, inches away from leaning against the dining table, with his hands shoved in his pockets. he hasn’t moved since he entered the flat; he isn’t moving now, either. he’s always motionless when jaebum loses it, jaebum now notices. whenever they fight, he refuses to get physical and isn’t that just _sweet_? ars looks down at jaebum’s fists then back up at his face. “I tried to warn you, jaebum-hyung.”

“no! no.” he takes a step forward and it feels like the floor is shaking under his feet, throwing off his balance. it feels like he’s being thrown off, thrown about, thrown onto his knees. he can already feel himself losing. he jabs a finger at ars, jaw set and teeth grinding together. “don’t you _dare_ try and play this on me, ars. don’t you fucking dare.”

ars focuses on the tip of the finger, mouth drawn in a tight line. “I didn’t fall in love.”

the finger curls back into the fist and when he focuses his gaze once more on jaebum’s face, his chin’s jutting out, now. his jaw’s set, eyes mere slits but he doesn’t need much more; he can sense the frustration washing off jaebum in _waves_ that crash into him like the sea against jagged rocks. “I didn’t fucking change, ars. I didn’t just fucking change in the middle of a relationship.”

“I didn’t change.”

jaebum grinds his teeth together and drops his hand, spinning around. he rubs his fingers harshly over his face, digs his nails into his eyelids and lets out a frustrated sigh, voice cracking and clinging to the air halfway through. he walks forward to the french doors that lead to his small balcony and presses the cool glass against his forehead. beyond the railing are cars and people, other lives that jaebum could be living, could be a part of, _has no idea about._

when he turns around, glaring, eyes still narrowed dangerously and brow set, ars still hasn’t moved. he’s no closer to the dining table or the sofa. his face still gives nothing away except for that tight line of a mouth and jaebum just _doesn’t know_. he doesn’t know what this means, doesn’t know what anything means any more. did he ever know? jaebum has never wanted to punch him more than in this moment.

“don’t lie to me. don’t lie to me _now_. if you were going to lie to me, you should have done that when you pretended you were happy. when you pretended you cared. you should have lied to me when it wouldn’t—” _hurt this much._

ars blinks. he rolls his shoulders a little, nearly swaying _cutely_ on his feet, and says, “I’m not lying to you, hyung. did it ever occur to you that you were seeing what you _wanted_ to see?”

in a mere second, jaebum’s standing in front of ars, fingers embedded in the collar of his stupid jumper, knuckles white with pressure. this close, he can see the colour of ars’ eyes and the mole that sits beneath his eye and he wants to tear — scratch at until it’s nothing but scar tissue, gnarled and ugly and non-existent — but also _kiss_. “no. no, no, no! you’re lying! I’m not going to be abused, ars, not by you, not by fucking anyone. you’re not doing this now, you’re fucking lying and you need to admit it.”

the younger of the two just stares. he stares, and jaebum remembers the first time ars slept over. they hadn’t done anything more than press a few kisses and fall asleep tucked into each other. but they’d woken up side by side. jaebum had woken up first, groggy and displeased at the light slipping in from the open bathroom door they forgot to shut, but it gives him time to just observe ars’ face; the curve of it, the full cheeks and pink lips, lashes fanning across his cheeks, trying to hide the mole but not succeeding. he’d woken ars up with kisses.

jaebum punches him.

ars stumbles back into the dining table, chair scraping loudly, ugly, along the floor to make room for his body. he reaches a hand up to cup his jaw gently, putting a subtle pressure against it with his palm. peeking through his fingers, he still stares at jaebum, at the anger embedded in the man who’s completely _lost it_.

“you’re such a fucking bastard, ars,” he hisses, and ars has never heard this before, never experienced someone’s anger being so intimately related to him. “I hate you.”

he finds his voice and says quietly, softly, “no, you don’t.”

another punch to his face sends the table back a few inches and the edge digging into his lower back. it hurts, stings, as well. he feels something warm trickle down onto his upper lip and he gently presses a finger to it, pulling away. the crimson against his skin would be more alarming if he wasn’t him. it should be alarming that jaebum’s the cause of it if he hadn’t seen this coming.

jaebum rubs at his face again, turning away from ars to pace in front of him. he runs fingers through his hair again and again, dragging nails over his scalp sharp enough to sting the skin and almost bring up blood. almost. his breathing’s heavy, shoulder’s tense, agitation settled well into his bones. ars has heard tales about jaebum’s anger, about what he’s done when he can’t control it and how he needed to go to anger management to keep it in check. he's seen the small dents in the walls where jaebum chose to punch them instead of the person he's angry at. ars hadn’t thought their relationship would last long enough for him to see it, honestly.

ars is quiet as he watches, patting down his pockets. he turns his head and spies napkins spread over the table top. grasping one and balling up a corner, he presses it gently under his nostril to soak up the blood but keeps his eyes on jaebum.

“you need to get out.” jaebum doesn’t look at him, doesn’t turn to send a glance over his shoulder. he's stopped beside a wall, head bowed a little, turned away from ars.

“I’m not going anywhere,” ars mutters through an aching jaw.

jaebum slams the side of his fist against the wall and turns around. he glares, eyes sharp but words sharper. there’s a small moment where ars contemplates asking him if he learned it from jinyoung. “ars, you need to get out.”

he says nothing. he watches, which is what he does best. here’s to hoping the confrontation will go soon enough, or simply disappear. he didn't come here with the idea to fight, don't get him wrong; he'd been hoping routine would follow through and he'd end up in jaebum's bed at the end of the bed, naked skin together so he could sleep. he doesn’t like confrontation. people have told him he doesn’t deal with it well, and instead always waits for other people to sort it out amongst themselves while he sits quietly in another room with a distraction. apparently, it just makes people angrier when he does that.

“I want you out!” jaebum yells, and his words bounce again, but this time they shatter against the window. the fragments lay on the floor, ready to be stepped on. “I can’t look at your fucking face right now—”

“since you smashed it?” he interrupts softly.

so close to breathing fire, to smoke coming out of his nose, to _punching ars again_. jaebum seethes, fists trembling by his sides. “I never want to see you again. I never want you in my life again. leave and don’t come back. don’t you dare come back!”

“you’re lying.”

“stop acting as if you know everything!” so close to screaming, now. there isn’t a possibility of him calming down, ars is certain, not for a long while. he doesn’t deal with confrontation, though, so he never knows when to stop. “you don’t know anything about me!”

“we’ve been together almost two years, hyung,” ars says and his voice hasn’t changed. he’s not scared. and maybe that’s a bad thing, maybe if he was scared he’d know when’s the good time to stop, maybe if he left now he could salvage this later. maybe. “I know you. I know you care about nora almost more than your family. I know you and mark have been friends for most of your lives. I know you prefer korean food to western food. I know you love me.”

“I don’t love you,” jaebum hisses, and it sounds deadly, unsteady. if ars focuses enough, he can see the other trembling where he stands. he wonders how much anger he’s keeping inside.

“you do.”

ars watches jaebum turn and punch the wall, again. three times. the last punch ends with jaebum leaning forward to press his forehead against it, letting his fist stay where it is. ars can't see if he's bleeding, if his knuckles have split. he's sure there will be bruises on jaebum's hands tomorrow, just like there will be on his face. jaebum's breath is harsh and loud in the quiet of the room, reaching ars' ears without any effort. he thinks maybe he's crossed the line of when he should have stopped. he wonders if there's another dent in the wall now. he wonders if there'd be a dent in _him_ had he been the wall.

he pulls away the napkin from his face and checks the amount of blood before folding it in half and dabbing gently at his upper lip. the skin’s tender, and his nose feels warm and fuzzy under the skin, numb, nearly. he thinks both it and the spot on his jaw that feels inflamed will bruise by tonight. it'll be interesting to try and explain to the old woman who lives a few doors down and insists on cooking him food if they pop up before he can hide himself away. he knows he's not going to be able to stay here tonight. he keeps his eyes on jaebum’s back as he licks a little at a clean pick of napkin and uses it to clean off as much blood as he can without a mirror.

“I could have easily loved you, you know,” he offers, as if it'll make everything better, as if it's the simplest answer to all of the bullshit he's put jaebum through, balling the napkin up in his hand and shoving it in his pocket. there’s silence for one heartbeat, then four, before jaebum tilts his head a little. ars can’t see his face.

“then why didn’t you?”

ars doesn’t say anything. he shifts against the dining table again and crosses his legs at the ankle, resting the side of his foot against the floor. he waits, watches the elder give in, sink into himself, and turn around to look ars in the face. he looks exhausted and angry. it doesn't really suit him.

“you’re not mark.”


End file.
